Dirty Games

by Barbara Elsborg

  “But you tried to tell me several times and I stopped you. I don’t know what I thought you wanted to say. Probably that you were going back to your ex or leaving the country or it was one of those it’s not me it’s you speeches. Instead of listening to you, I ended up listening to a guy with a French accent who I knew was your ex with an agenda of his own, and I believed him instead of giving you the chance to tell me what the fuck was going on. I was in such a blind fury I ripped you to shreds.”

  Thorne exhaled. “Not just that. I hurt you in more ways than I want to remember. I wish I couldn’t remember what I did. I’m ashamed of myself. Sorry doesn’t even come near how much I need to apologise to you. I would do anything to make it all not have happened. I would do anything to make it up to you. I just need you to give me the chance. Please. I came here scared you’d tell me to fuck off, which was probably the way you felt at the party. I need you to do for me what I couldn’t do for you. To listen. Understand. Forgive. Shit. Forget the forgive. I don’t deserve that. Not yet. One day. Maybe…if I can…”

  Thorne gave a choked laugh. “I make my living using words and I can’t find the right ones.” He took a deep breath and looked Linton in the eye. “I need you in my life. I need you to help make me a better man.”

  Sharp spasms of want felt like a thousand needles piercing Linton’s skin. Does he mean it? Do I want him to mean it? A small voice in his head was warning him to be careful, that he shouldn’t forgive too easily. What Thorne had done had hurt him deeply. But Linton had been at fault as well.

  “I hurt you too,” Linton whispered.

  “But you didn’t, did you? Once I knew you were connected to Max and Owen, I blew everything up into a massive betrayal. You were with me because you’d been paid to be with me. You were part of some revenge scheme for me having broken up with Owen, for having sacked Max as my architect. I cast aside every good thing I knew about you, the fact that you saved my pathetic fucking life. Even if you had betrayed me, it was not a good enough reason to do what I did, say awful things, chuck stones at you and…” Thorne dragged his fingers through his hair. “I almost…oh fuck.”

  “Don’t.” Linton didn’t want to think about it.

  “You have to hear this, Linton. I need to talk about it. I need you to give me the chance I didn’t give you. I need you to understand what made me do it, though I’m not sure I understand myself, except that you meant so much to me.”

  Thorne slid his hand onto the bed but didn’t reach for Linton’s fingers. “You made me a different guy, made me think, made me want to face whatever the fuck demons are inside me and stop them messing me up. You’re the first person I’ve opened up to about my family. I could be myself with you. You were honest and straightforward. Even when you weren’t, you still tried to be and I stopped you. You didn’t put up with my bullshit. You showed me when I was behaving badly. You didn’t take advantage. I felt like I was flying when I was with you, and maybe that was why I crashed so hard when I thought you’d let me down.”

  Linton picked at a thread on the bedcover, Thorne’s fingers within reach. “I could have told you right at the start when we bumped into each other in that pub. Asked you to go along with it, to trick Max. I decided I couldn’t risk it because of Dirk. I was stunned to see you in there… Fate, coincidence, whatever the hell it was, made me not think straight.”

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  “I didn’t kiss you because of Max. I didn’t know you’d follow us out. I kissed you because I wanted to. What we had wasn’t built on lies, but I felt more and more guilty every time we met and I still said nothing.”

  Thorne dragged his fingers through his hair. “I want to try again. Do you? Can we? Have I grovelled enough to at least deserve the right to ask that question? Please tell me we’re not too broken to put back together.”

  Linton widened his eyes. “Christ, I hope I’m not. Or were the doctors lying?”

  “Don’t joke.”

  The tips of Thorne’s fingers touched his and Linton didn’t pull back.

  “I’d have done the same,” Thorne whispered.

  “What?”

  “If I’d needed the money to help River, I’d have done the same. You even dropped hints. I missed them.” Thorne wet his lips. “Your ex was hanging around outside, by the way. I told him to fuck off.”

  Linton managed a smile. “And did he?”

  “Yeah which says a lot about him. Christ, the guy’s a pain in the neck, though I can be very persuasive.” Thorne moved his fingertips along Linton’s. “Am I being very persuasive? Will you give me a chance to put this right?”

  Linton slid his fingers over Thorne’s.

  Thorne let out a strangled gulp. “Apparently, you’re very fortunate to have a useful superpower. The ability to bounce. You’re concussed but nothing’s broken. Though you need to be watched for a while in case you develop more serious symptoms.”

  What hadn’t he been told? Linton’s heart thumped. “Such as?”

  “Mental confusion. Not knowing where you are, who you are, what you are. Bleeding from your ears, an inability to walk, talk, see, or hear. Sleeping for longer than an hour at a time when you’d normally be awake. Vomiting, fits, seizures. Not wanting sex. Oh shit. Ignore that bit. I’m babbling because I’m nervous.”

  Linton chuckled. Ouch, that hurt.

  “You could come home with me,” Thorne said. “Or I could come and stay with you. Wherever you’re living. I know you’ve moved. I can watch you. I’d be really good at spotting the not wanting sex part.” He let out a shaky sigh. “I’m in grave danger of allowing my mouth to run away with me but there is so much I want to say—need to say, and I should say it now, not make stupid jokes, but I’m scared. Not much scares me but this does because I’m pretty sure this is the most important moment of my life, apart from when a hero rescued me from drowning.”

  A painful lump erupted in Linton’s throat.

  Thorne gripped Linton’s hand. “Will you save my life again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you come home with me?”

  “Yes.”

  Thorne gave him a tentative grin. “Going to say yes to everything?”

  “Probably not if you’ve got a red room of pain.”

  “Red’s so last season.” Thorne smiled, then gulped. “You mean it? I didn’t just imagine you saying yes?”

  “Take me home.”

  “Oh God.” Thorne stood up. “I don’t want to let your hand go but I can hardly drag you out of the room. I’m going to speak to the doctors about getting you out of here. I’ll arrange for a car to collect us.” He let Linton go. “Shit. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry little hand.”

  Linton wondered for a moment if he’d dreamt all that, that wishful thinking on top of a concussion had persuaded him everything was going to be all right. There was a chance and Linton wasn’t going to turn it down.

  He was relieved to find his phone still worked and he called Amadeo. When he didn’t pick up, Linton left a message saying he’d been in an accident and was going to spend the night with a friend. He thought about phoning Dirk, but he didn’t want his brother rushing south to see him.

  When Thorne came back, Linton was dressed in his torn trousers and dirty shirt, speckled with blood from where he’d grazed his skin. He managed to persuade the nurses he didn’t need a wheelchair though by the time they reached the exit, he was exhausted. Thorne guided him to the car and when they were sitting in the back, he took Linton’s hand and held tight. Within moments Linton was asleep.

  When he woke, his head was on Thorne’s shoulder and they were in Knightsbridge.

  “Okay?” Thorne asked.

  Linton pushed himself upright. “Yeah. Thirsty.”

  Thorne took a small bottle of water from a pocket on the door and unscrewed it for him. “We’re nearly there.”

  Linton drank the whole lot.

  “You want something to eat?” Thorne asked.

  �
�No thanks. Well, maybe a small portion of caviar, half a lobster, a medium well done Kobe steak and a slice of vanilla cheesecake.”

  Thorne laughed.

  “I’m not hungry,” Linton said. “Unless you have Gordon Ramsay on speed dial. Do you?”

  “No. But I could—”

  “I’m joking.”

  The car double-parked outside Thorne’s house and they got out. Linton stopped in his tracks when he reached the top of the steps. A nest of little white stones had been arranged by the door. Thorne couldn’t have known he’d come back but he’d done this anyway. Linton bent down, took a stone from one side and moved it to the other. “That’s better. Your nest building skills need work.”

  Thorne shifted another stone and the side he’d disturbed fell down. “Shit.”

  Linton laughed.

  “Well, I was waiting for my architect to check out the construction. I like the plans for the house, by the way. No, I love them.”

  “You ripped them up.”

  Thorne winced. “I did, but River stuck them back together.” Thorne shuffled them inside and closed the door. “You should lie down.”

  “Yep.” Linton was exhausted.

  At the top of the stairs, Thorne paused. “There’s a guest room.”

  Linton slid his fingers into Thorne’s. “I thought you were supposed to be keeping an eye on me. What if I wake in the middle of the night and don’t know who I am? I might panic and think I’m a penguin.”

  “There is that.” But inside the room, Thorne gave a loud groan. “Oh shit. I can’t believe what I did to you. I’m a fucking monster.”

  Linton pushed him back against the door. “Stop it. If you can’t move on, we don’t stand a chance.”

  “How can I move on? I hurt you.”

  “But you didn’t rape me. You could have. I think part of me knew you had to stop yourself and you did. You were blind with anger, but you stopped. And I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Thorne nodded.

  “I need to lie down,” Linton said. “I want you with me.”

  They lay side by side on the bed and Thorne took Linton’s hand again.

  Linton shifted to make himself comfortable. “Max and Owen told me that you’d done the humiliation thing to someone else. An actress you’d been out with. Emily Jones. They said it was game you played, stringing someone along and then publicly dumping them.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “It’s not a game. But it’s a problem. I’ve seen you lose your temper a few times now. I get that you don’t want to be pestered when you’re out and about but you need to count to ten or something. Snap a band on your wrist or repeat a phrase in your head like—I don’t like jellied eels.”

  “I don’t.”

  Linton squirmed. “Me neither. You scared me at the party. I think I’d have coped better if you’d ranted and raged. But when you’re really angry, you go icy calm and turn into a different person. I don’t like that person.”

  “Nor do I.” Thorne sighed. “It’s what my father used to do. Humiliate me in front of guests. Make them laugh at my expense. Pick fault with me. Tell strangers I’d wet the bed or that I was stupid because I didn’t understand chemistry. He said he was going to send me to a school where I couldn’t even come home at the end of term, that he didn’t want me, that I disappointed him. I learned to hide how hurt I was or how pissed off I felt because I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing he’d upset me. I’ve been acting my whole life. Of course my father poured scorn on me when I chose to make a living as an actor. Wasting my life. I was determined to prove him wrong.” Thorne gave him a sad smile. “Except I have been wasting my life.”

  “No you haven’t. But no more acting unless you’re in front of a camera. You can be kind and polite and mean it, not act it. You should learn from your father’s mistakes, not repeat them. We’ve had this conversation before. Parents fuck us up but we’re adults now. We make our own decisions.”

  Thorne reached out and let his fingers drift across Linton’s lips. “I threw stones at you.”

  “Not just any old stones.”

  Thorne groaned. “I didn’t mean to make you bleed. I loved that story about the penguins. Loved the pebble you put in the tent and suddenly it all felt like a lie.”

  Thorne put his hand in his pocket and showed Linton the pebble. “It has your blood on it. I’m going to keep it with me always to remind me what a shit I am.”

  Linton lifted it from his palm. “No you’re not. That’s a totally unacceptable pebble. It doesn’t deserve a place in the nest.”

  Thorne took it back. “Yes it does. It has pride of place. While I have this with me, I won’t ever let my anger get out of control again.” He gulped. “You still have the scar from where it hit you.”

  Linton tried to pull open Thorne’s fingers. “You’re going to have a scar from where I hit you if you don’t fucking let this go.”

  Thorne put the pebble on the bedside table. “I need it, Linton.”

  Linton sighed and then nodded.

  Thorne released a shaky breath. “You should tell me to fuck off, that you never want to see me again except I don’t want to hear those words because they’ll destroy me.”

  “I’m here. I’m not leaving. I’ve been sleeping on a friend’s bed settee and your bed is much more comfortable.”

  “I’ve wrecked something special,” Thorne croaked.

  “Listen.” Linton stared straight at him. “You didn’t fuck me. You were rough and I’m fine with playing rough sometimes but not when the other person is angry. You were punishing both of us. You were going to make that last fuck something we’d remember as having no heart, but you stopped. Would I still feel like this if you hadn’t?”

  Linton took Thorne’s hand and put it against his erection.

  Thorne pulled it back. “Oh God, don’t tempt me.”

  “We both made mistakes and yet in a way I don’t regret any of it. If I hadn’t agreed to Max and Owen’s plan, maybe I’d not even have noticed you in that pub.”

  “I’d have made sure you did. The moment I saw you prancing about on that stage I wanted you. You could sing, you could move and you were wearing eye liner.” He groaned. “No wonder you looked so shocked when you saw me.”

  “But I walked away. I didn’t give you my number. You found me. Paid to find me.”

  “Then I lost you.”

  “And found me again. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You have to stop beating yourself up about it. We can’t survive if you don’t.” He pressed his lips to Thorne’s and swallowed the guy’s moan.

  Thorne slipped his hands around Linton’s hips and Linton did his best not to wince but—fuck it—he was really sore.

  “Shit. I’m hurting you.” Thorne let him go.

  “I need to get into bed.” Linton pushed to his feet, toed off his shoes and stripped, leaving his clothes where they fell.

  “Oh my God.” Thorne gaped at him.

  “I’m cute, I know.” Linton grinned. “Particularly my arse.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “You don’t think I’m cute?”

  “Yes, you’re fucking cute. But look at the state you’re in.”

  Linton glanced down. He’d already seen the bruises when he dressed. One side of his body was a multi-coloured mess. “I’m still cute though, right?”

  “How can you joke about it? You could have died.”

  “But I didn’t. The bruising will fade and believe me, I’m going to milk it until it does. I’ve always fancied being waited on hand and foot. Why do you think I’m here and not at my friend’s place?”

  “I thought it was because I have a comfortable bed.”

  “You are going to wait on me hand and foot though?” Linton crawled under the covers. “Shit. I’ve forgotten what I am. Get in bed and remind me.”

  Thorne stripped and when he slipped into bed, Linton curled into him with a sigh. “Now I remember. I’m
a penguin. Not the necrophiliac type.”

  Thorne stroked Linton’s face. “Why did you leave your flat?”

  “I couldn’t afford it. I’d paid off Dirk’s debt from my savings and I used all of the money Max gave me for my brother’s rehab. I only ever saw that as a loan. The only way I could see to pay it back was finding somewhere cheaper to live, and letting Max work me to death while he deducted money from my wages.”

  “What about your furniture? All your stuff?”

  “Sold a lot of it on eBay. The rest is in my car and Amadeo’s flat.”

  “Owen told me they’d blackmailed you into going along with them.”

  “Max threatened Dirk. He said he could get coke to him in rehab. I couldn’t take the risk.”

  “And said he’d make sure you never worked as an architect again?”

  “That wouldn’t have been hard. A word from him and no one would employ me. But I’ve had enough of working for Max. He’s giving me crap jobs to do. I just have to hang on until I’ve been paid.”

  “Let me give you the money to pay him back.”

  Linton sighed. “That is so fucked-up, lending me money that I was given to fuck up your life.”

  “Except it fucked up your life. Let me give it to you. Please.”

  Oh God, no way. “Not give it to me, but I will borrow it and pay you back.”

  “How about you being the architect and project manager for building my house, then we’ll call it quits? Max quoted fourteen percent of build cost just for his architectural input.”

  “You don’t need to pay me for doing that.”

  “Course I do. You did miss something in the plans though.”

  “I put in all the rooms that you wanted.”

  “Not a room. You drew a sketch of me standing in the house, well…lying in bed, but I want someone living with me. Not someone. You. That turns it from a house to a home. I want it to be our home. I want it to be a place you’d like to live in. So if you need to amend the design…”

  “I can have a purple room of pain?”